Not Quite a Femme Fatale
by Thalia Kendall
Summary: This is how NOT to write a fic...Erica Windsor-Wellington is an American Exchange Student who falls for Oliver Wood...and chaos ensues!!


All right…here's a parody of all HP Mary Sue fics…*evil laugh*

This is to show people what NOT to do when writing a fic…

Disclaimers apply. I don't own Oliver Wood. I and a whole lot of people WANT to own Oliver Wood, but we don't.

Laugh and enjoy!!

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Femme Fatale…not!

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            "I can't believe it! I just can't believe it!" Erica Windsor-Wellington screamed into her cell phone as she bounced about in her room, cascading blonde tresses glittering in the sunlight that was wafting through the open window. "I, like, just got the letter from Headmaster Garfield, and, like, I've been chosen to study abroad this year at Hogwarts! I won't be coming back to Salem Seminary this year after all!"

            "Oh REALLY?!" Erica's best friend, Veronica, squealed back excitedly, "That's, like, so awesome! I heard that HARRY POTTER himself goes to that school! How awesome is that? You'll get to, like, meet him and everything!! And all the cute British guys! They, like, have the cutest accents!"

            "Yeah! I KNOW! Oh this is going to be so much fun! We, like, NEED to go shopping tomorrow! Anyway, I gotta go now, mom's yelling at me to get off the phone! Muah! Bye sweetie!"

            Erica Windsor-Wellington was a witch of 17 years of age, a student at the Salem Seminary of Magic. She was blonde, blue-eyed, perky and popular, and talented in transfiguration and charms as well. Beside the fact that she was loved and adored by all her classmates, she was the long-lost daughter of Professor Wellington, the Transfiguration Professor, who had once saved the American wizarding population from disaster by faking his own death and then, when the evil Dark Wizard Mordred had approached his supposed corpse to jeer and laugh at the fallen man, transfiguring him with the wand hidden behind his back into a mosquito, then squashing him. So, when Salem offered the opportunity for a student to study abroad at Hogwarts School, it was not a surprise that Erica was chosen.

            So, two months after she had received the good news, Erica, stunningly dressed in hot pink vinyl flares and a black belly shirt that showed her navel ring to great advantage, stood in the middle of platforms 9 and 10 at King's Cross station, confused and wondering how the flying fuck she was going to get onto this platform 9 and three quarters. She looked around, trying to find someone who could help her, and soon found a tall, gorgeous-looking boy about her age with light brown hair and a leanly muscled form, a broomstick, trunk and owl on his cart. "My, look at the ass on that one!" she said to herself, mascara-ed eyes gleaming. She sauntered up to him.

            "Hey there, good-lookin', you go to Hogwarts?" 

            The hottie gave her a strange look, "Er, who are you?" he said in an adorable Scottish accent, looking at her bizarre get-up with eyebrows raised.

            "I'm your dreams come true, sugar. Tell me how to get onto the platform, and I swear you won't regret it." Erica said in a dramatic voice, batting her eyelashes and licking her lips, unaware that she was smudging her lipstick. The boy pulled back slightly, looking a bit alarmed.

            "Just run at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. I have to go now!" With that, the cutie ran off, at top speed, towards a large group of redheads close by. Erica shrugged, tossed her hair back, and ran at the barrier like the boy had told her to. 

            Miraculously, it disappeared, and she found herself on the platform she was supposed to be on! "AWESOME!" she squealed, jumping up and down with glee. Unfortunately, she forgot that she had been wearing pink stiletto heels, and fell rather ungracefully on her butt. Nearby, a silver-blond boy laughed.

            "Oh fuck off, you little retard!" Erica rolled her eyes at him. Then, she stepped forward into the crowd of Hogwarts students, trying to see if she could locate the hottie again. Behind her back, she heard snatches of conversation going on.

            "What? She called you SUGAR?!" A male voice exclaimed incredulously, then burst into laughter, "What a nutter! Who the devil could THAT be?"

            "I don't know…but…oh bloody hell, there she is!" Erica's guy-radar picked up the Scottish accent and she spun around. The hottie was trying vainly to hide behind two identical redheads and a tall black girl. Erica walked over, swaying her hips.

            "Hello there, cutie. Come out and play!" she said in a sultry voice. The cutie merely shrank back further. The two redheads glanced at each other, then turned to her.

            "Say, who're you and what do you want with Oliver?"

            "Oliver? Is that his name?" Erica ignored the redheads and pushed forward until she was standing in front of Oliver, overcoming him with the sweet, intoxicating scent of her perfume, "Hey Oliver, I'm Erica. It's LOVELY to meet you."

            Oliver coughed, then sneezed, "You smell like roses."

            Erica launched herself into his arms, "Oh, how sweet! You noticed!"

            Oliver's coughing grew more intense, "I'm…allergic…to…roses…" his eyes started tearing and he detached himself from Erica's grip, and rushed onto the train. Erica sighed.

            "He's such a hottie. You three friends of his?"

            "You might say that. I'm Fred Weasley, this is my brother George, and this is my girlfriend Angelina Johnson. Oliver and us are all on the Quidditch team for our house. Who're you?"

            "Ooh, you play Quidditch?! Cool! I love jocks! I'm Erica Windsor-Wellington, the Homecoming Queen of Salem, I'm an American exchange student and I'll be going to Hogwarts this year! So, like, Oliver, is he taken?"

            Fred and George glanced at each other again, and smiled evilly, "He's not."

            "EEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!" Erica squealed in excitement. This was great! She was going to Hogwarts, and she had already met a hot guy, and he was single! She just HAD to call Veronica pronto!

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            Erica was introduced to the Hogwarts students, and sorted into Gryffindor. A lot of the girls started to emulate her wicked-cool dressing style, and would show up in class wearing all sorts of pleather clothing. McGonagall was outraged. Snape simply took points until Gryffindor was in last place. Therefore, Snape was happy and would encourage Erica to continue wearing her sexy clothing to classes, which she, trying to attract Oliver's attention, was all too willing to do.

            Oliver was really the hottest boy in the whole school, so Erica spent every spare moment chasing after him. He started spending time on the Quidditch pitch to avoid her, but Erica knew that he was just playing hard-to-get, and was a bit shy. So she decided to learn Quidditch. Because she was so brilliant, she became good at it immediately, better than all of the chasers on the house team, but as there were no openings available, and Oliver seemed to be more used to having them around than having her around (something which she was determined to change), she could not become part of the team and have the right to share a locker room with him. This of course disappointed her greatly, but she was a resourceful girl, and soon found a way to get a key to the locker room, by sleeping with the entire Slytherin team (who were greatly amused by her crush on Oliver). Marcus Flint gave her an extra key, and the next day, she managed to sneak in, and corner Oliver while he was coming out of his shower.

            "Hello there, hot stuff." She said in a sultry voice. Oliver's eyes bulged, and he screamed. Then, he ran and locked himself in one of the bathroom stalls. Erica was not deterred and whipped out her wand, shouting "Alohomora!"

            Oliver tore out of the bathroom stall and ran to hide behind Fred and George, screaming for Angelina, Alicia, Katie and Harry to help him. Harry shouted "Expelliarmus!" and got Erica's wand, and Oliver re-shut himself into the bathroom stall, refusing to come out for three hours. 

            "What the fuck's wrong with you? I had to fuck the entire Slytherin team to get the key to this joint!" Erica yelled as she stormed out gracefully…or, would have stormed out gracefully had her high heel not gotten tangled in one of the towels on the floor and she fell flat on her face. Behind her back, the Gryffindor Quidditch team exchanged scared glances. This girl meant business! Anyone who was willing to boink Marcus Flint was a force to be reckoned with! Fred and George glanced at each other, with that telepathic link that all twins seemed to have, and made a decision to get in touch with their father at once.

            The next day, as Erica made her way to the locker room to waylay Oliver again, a dozen men in black (aurors, of course) appeared seemingly out of nowhere and grabbed hold of her. "Ms. Windsor-Wellington, we're arresting you for stalking a Hogwarts student. You'll be sentenced to seven years in Azkaban."

            Then, they dragged her away, kicking and screaming, well…until they gagged her and removed her deadly high heels. She was put into Azkaban, and with the terrible power of the Dementors, she was forced to relive the memory of herself waking up with a huge pimple on her forehead the day that she had to get her yearbook picture taken over and over again until she went mad, and started to rant about Scottish accents and pink vinyl pants in an entirely incoherent fashion to the similarly-insane Augustus Rookwood, who was ensconced in the next cell.

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All right! This is how NOT to write a fic!!

Cheers!

~Thalia, Mary Sue auror~


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